


The morning after

by missrosehaven



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:21:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22580002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missrosehaven/pseuds/missrosehaven
Summary: As Thomas is serving breakfast to Mary and Robert back at Downton after spending time with Richard, he is dismayed to be the topic of conversation...Loosely follows my story 'An unexpected encounter."
Relationships: Mary Crawley/Henry Talbot, Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis
Comments: 23
Kudos: 210





	1. Chapter 1

“Barrow,” Mary eyed the butler as he poured her breakfast tea. “You’re looking positively radiant today.”

Thomas straightened, feeling his breath catch in his throat. He felt like a new man after his trip away with Richard, but he’d convinced himself that no one would notice. Now that Lady Mary had, he could feel his cheeks beginning to flush. And try as he might the response was beyond his control. What was wrong with him?

“I take it you enjoyed your time off?” Mary continued, watching him with a keen eye.

Thomas opened his mouth to reply but vivid (and rather explicit) recollections from the days before filled his head unbidden, and he was momentarily lost for words.

“Speechless, I see,” Mary noted when he didn’t reply to her question. “I suppose that in itself speaks volumes.”

“I’m sorry m’lady. Yes. Yes I did,” Thomas recovered his tongue and corrected himself hastily, although his cheeks felt as though they were burning.

Mary cocked her head, feigning innocence. “You did what? Exactly?”

“Leave the fellow alone Mary,” Robert chastised, joining her at the breakfast table and picking up the morning paper, pleased to relax now he was back from London. “He doesn't have to tell if he doesn't want to. He’s entitled to a private life.”

“Absolutely. I never said he wasn’t.” Mary agreed, and Thomas felt a wave of relief wash over him that she had dropped the topic, but it was premature.

“Have you heard from Henry, Mary? Was the car show a success?” Robert changed the subject.

“I just wonder,” Mary continued, ignoring her father, “what on _earth_ our Mr Barrow could have got up to, to elicit this unprecedented transformation. I’ve never seen him look so… _alive_.” It seemed to her that the normally ashen-faced butler was almost sparkling, like a Christmas light that had been lit up from the inside. It intrigued and irritated her at the same time.

“Let it go, Mary,” Robert told her without looking up from the paper.

“And now he’s blushing,” Mary noted with a hint of a smile, before turning stern. “It’s not proper,” she added curtly, sipping her tea.

Robert couldn’t help but turn and see that it was true. He met Thomas’s eyes with sympathy. “So what if he is? It’s your fault for hassling him.”

“It’s a _worry_ , that’s what it is!” Mary’s voice became accidentally louder.

Robert was becoming exasperated. “How so?”

Mary lowered her voice. “That the _butler_ should be having a racier time than _I_ am. Golly, I’ve got to make some changes in my life if _that’s_ the case! What in God’s name is the world coming to?”

“Mary, I do believe you’ve got out of bed on the wrong side,” Robert sighed. “Again.”

“I wouldn’t be able to, if Henry was in the bed,” Mary complained.

“Exactly,” Robert abandoned the paper. “This isn’t about Barrow at all, is it Mary? You’re just vexed because Henry’s been away for so long. It’s understandable I suppose, but I do wish you’d find some more productive way to deal with your...”

“Oh I see. You think not having a man in my bed makes me cranky? Hardly a polite thing for a father to say of his daughter, is it Papa?”

“Probably not. But I won’t just stand by and have you take it out on poor Barrow.”

“Poor Barrow indeed! I was only teasing, Papa. I’m not taking it out on him! Not exactly. I’m…I’m just…” Mary floundered, trying to justify her behavior when she was struggling to fully understand it herself. And she was mortified to realize her father could be more right than he knew.

“You said it yourself,” Robert pointed out. “You’re envious that he…”

“…that _he’s_ had a man in his bed more recently than _I_ have?” Mary blurted out suddenly. “Why would I be envious of that? When I wake up sad and alone and come down to breakfast only to have his post coital glow flaunted in my face? Of all people, I thought I could at least count on Thomas Barrow to be taking cold showers for the rest of his life, but I was clearly wrong. Evidently the days of celibate butlers have now been relegated to history, along with so much else, and I’m expected to endure it all.” She glanced at Thomas and his wounded expression intensified her venom. “You look as though I’ve struck you, Barrow!” she mocked. “If you want to keep a secret you might want to let your face know. I’m not sure when you became so transparent but it hardly becomes you.” When Mary realised her insult had struck home, her defiance wavered and she turned sulky in shame. She threw down her napkin. “I’ve changed my mind,” she muttered, her chair scraping the floor as she rose abruptly to her feet. “I’ll have breakfast in my room.” With that she stormed out of the room.

Thomas could hear his own breathing in the silence that followed. He wished he could close his eyes and sink into the floor. He and Richard had been so discreet about everything. To be honest there was a foolish part of him that wanted to tell the whole world, loud and proud, but he knew that was a dangerous and unrealistic fantasy to think everyone would be happy for him. This horrendous situation was clearly his payment for it. To think how full of sunshine he’d been this morning and yet all too soon these dark clouds were gathering. He didn’t know what to do. He felt like crying.

“Barrow, tell the kitchen to prepare a breakfast tray for Mary, would you? God knows we better try to please her, if we can.”

“Yes, m’lord,” Thomas managed, but it came out almost as a sob.

Robert glanced at him, then set his paper aside again. “Come now Barrow, there’s no need for that. _You_ have done nothing wrong.” He got to his feet and walked over to the distraught butler so he could address him man to man. “You _are_ entitled to a private life. And what you do in private, with discretion, is no one else’s concern.”

“I thought I was, m’lord. Discreet.”

Robert paused. “It was _Mary_ who wasn’t,” he pointed out. “She says things she doesn’t mean - unfounded accusations, regardless of the truth. Nothing will come of it.”

“Of course not, m’lord.” Thomas nodded recovering himself as best he could as he walked to the door.

“Thomas,” Robert called before he left, and Thomas turned back to see him resting his arm thoughtfully against the mantelpiece before looking up to meet his eyes. “I’m sure Mary’s happy for you in her heart of hearts." He paused. "As am I.”

Thomas nodded silently and left the room.

Maybe his fantasy was a fraction more possible than he’d dared to believe, if only an infinitesimal fraction.


	2. Attempted Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After her inappropriate behavior at breakfast, Mary attempts to apologize to Thomas Barrow.

Later that day, Robert walked into the library to find Mary sitting at her desk lost in thought.

“I hope you’re planning to apologize,” Robert said to his daughter.

“To whom?” she stirred from her reverie.

“Thomas Barrow.” Robert couldn’t help but wonder who else she might currently owe apologies to.

“Oh. How did you know I was thinking about him?” Mary asked, her face still clouded in thought.

“I didn’t. But I’m glad to hear you give him some thought occasionally.”

“Not overly. That’s mostly your job, isn’t it?”

Robert had noticed that while Mary had taken over much of the running of the house as well as of the estate, she happily left any issues with the servants to Robert and Cora. And yet she continued to quarrel with Barrow over the silliest things. “Mary,” he sat down so as to be more at eye level with her. “If you’re trying to turn me again Thomas Barrow, it’s not working and I don’t appreciate it. I hate to suggest this, but if you really can’t manage to get along with Barrow in a civil fashion, you’re going to have to dismiss him yourself.”

“Funny. That’s what he said.” Right before slamming the door in her face, she remembered painfully.

“He did?” Robert was surprised. So Mary had spoken to him since her walkout at breakfast. But it didn’t sound as though she’d managed to smooth things out. “That’s quite the ultimatum from him. I’m impressed. It shows spine.” He sighed. “I’d be sorry to see him leave for good, Mary, especially when he’s done nothing wrong - is that really what you want?”

“It appears to be.” She replied rather blankly, staring out the window.

“Well, if you have made up your mind,” Robert couldn’t read his daughter when she was like this and it frustrated him, “at least show the fellow some kindness and don’t hold him in suspense.”

…

Her father left the room and Mary’s mind wandered. She thought back to when Barrow had approached her about having time off a couple of weeks ago. He’d informed her of his plan to take three days leave, adding that Andrew had said he’d be happy to step up in his duties for that time and mentioning that Lord and Lady Grantham had already approved.

“But if you’ve already arranged it all, why are you coming to me?” she’d replied with a frown.

“His lordship asked that I also clear it with you, milady,” he had explained stiffly.

“Oh? Did he think I would object?” Normally she liked to have a say in matters but in this case she had felt annoyed that her father had palmed the final decision over to her.

“Do you?” Thomas had asked curtly.

“Well I don’t exactly approve.”

“Milady,” Thomas Barrow had seemed vexed. “I’ve not taken more than a half day’s leave since becoming butler—”

“Except during the royal visit,” Mary had reminded him.

He had exhaled audibly. “Except for that, milady.”

“I suppose you’re entitled to some kind of private life.”

“I’m glad you think so, milady.”

“So how are you planning to spend these three whole days of freedom? Are you going away?” she had interrogated haughtily.

“If I’m obligated to tell you, it’s hardly a private life, is it?”

“Did I say you’re obligated? I’m simply making conversation.” She had claimed, waiting expectantly. “Well?”

“I have planned a trip away, if you must know,” he had relented, “to visit a friend.”

“Really. How interesting.” The truth was that Mary had been very curious. Anna had told her only a few days prior how all the servants downstairs had noticed Mr Barrow receiving frequent letters from a London address and that when asked about them he always gave differing responses, none of which Anna believed. She said each of the servants had their theories, from Barrow running a black market business operation of some kind to being a spy for God knows what. Mary had asked Anna what her theory was. “I think he’s got a lover,” Anna had confessed. “How sordid,” Mary had responded. “Not at all,” Anna had defended him. “I think it’s very sweet actually. That maybe he’s found his special someone at last. Good for him.”

“Do I have your approval milady?” Thomas had asked again, becoming impatient.

“As I said: I don’t _approve_ but I don’t _object_ either. You may go,” Mary had told him. “But make sure you’re back on duty immediately once you return. And don’t expect to make a habit of it.”

“Thank you milady.” He had sounded very relieved.

That was two weeks ago now. Mary sighed. Her father was right. She needed to sort things out with Barrow once and for all. But sort things out how? What did she want to do? Why was she so hard on him lately? Why had he been getting on her nerves so much? It was strange because he never used to. Even back when nearly everyone at Downton had disliked him, she’d never minded him particularly. Now he was much more well-liked than he had been then. She’d heard from Anna that he now got on well with all the servants - even Mr Bates. He had, over time, managed to become a much warmer and more likable person than they could have imagined. But why did this irritate Mary so much? Why did she feel she’d rather have the old conniving and vindictive Barrow back? But even this new nicer Barrow was preferable to not having him around at all. She couldn’t imagine running Downton without Thomas Barrow here, and she refused to even imagine hiring a different unfamiliar butler. That was why, after her bad behavior at breakfast, she had gone downstairs and knocked on his pantry door, intending to apologize as best she could. Unfortunately she had only made things worse.

…

“Ah, Barrow,” Mary had entered the room. “I hoped you’d be here.”

“Why?” he’d asked coldly, without so much as a glance, and she’d known straight away that he wasn’t about to make things easy for her.

“I owe you an apology,” she had admitted.

“For what milady?” Thomas had deadpanned.

“For this morning, of course.” Mary explained awkwardly. “I should never have made the insinuations I did.”

”Even if they were true?”

”Especially if they’re true.”

“Oh.”

“What do you mean ‘oh’?”

“So you’re here to apologise _j_ _ust_ for this morning, milady?” he had said icily, looking at her finally. “Not for - _everything_?”

Mary had felt herself harden. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do,” he had flipped the wine ledger closed, ready to take her on. “Ever since I became butler you’ve been undermining me. Implying that I’m not up to the mark every step of the way.” As he’d been speaking he’d stood and walked around the desk until he had stood face to face with her. “Even shafted me for the royal visit. Lady Mary, are you trying to get me _sacked_?”

“Why on Earth would I do that? I _wanted_ you to succeed Carson when he retired, I’ll have you remember.” Mary had stood her ground, but he had ignored her, going about his business.

“ _Did_ you?” he had brushed past her.

“Yes.” She had followed him down the hall.

“You’ve a funny way of showing it then.”

“So what if I do?”

He had turned back to face her abruptly. “Lady Mary, I’ll be your butler, if you’ll let me, but I’m not going to be your doormat. And if that changes your mind, so be it. You’re the one running the show now.”

“Am I?”

“There’s no need for scheming, no need to turn his lordship against me, or set me up to look like a fool.”

“I wouldn’t—”

It’s passive-aggressive and it’s beneath you,” he’d spoken over her. “At least I’d think it should be. Milady.” Barrow paused before adding, “Perhaps you wanted me as Butler because you thought you’d be able to control and intimidate me. But I see through that kind of thing, don’t I.”

“Careful what you say to me,” Mary had warned in a low voice. “Have you thought this through? What would you do if you actually lost your job, Barrow? After all these years.”

“Don’t pretend that’s a concern to someone as heartless as yourself," he had countered.

“You’ve got some nerve—”

“I wish you had the nerve!” his anger had ruled him.

”Excuse me?”

”Man up and throw me out, why don’t you, since you clearly can’t stand the sight of me!”

“I can’t stand the sight of you? Is that what you think?” Mary had been utterly shocked. She honestly hadn't known he felt that way. That he'd taken her words so to heart.

“I’d rather be out of a job,” Thomas Barrow had sworn, taming his anger enough to hold his voice steady, “than in one where I’m treated like dirt, after, as you say, all these years.”

Mary had been utterly speechless. And with that he had slammed the cellar door in her face.


	3. Chaos downstairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tension filters through the entire Downton Abbey household and Mrs Hughes confronts Thomas Barrow about it.

Chaos reigned below the stairs at Downton Abbey. It was as though the tension above had seeping through the brickwork and affected everyone who worked there. The butler had been particularly short tempered, shouting orders all afternoon and now everyone was frazzled and more than a few doors had been slammed. Finally Mrs Hughes managed to get Thomas Barrow alone.

“What is going on Mr Barrow?” she followed him into his pantry and closed the door. “It’s not like you to shout at Albert or Andy, or be so short with the kitchen staff. I even noticed you sniping at Miss Baxter. You’re not yourself.”

“Or maybe,” the butler told her, pacing, equally exasperated, “I am.”

“Now, now. You’re not like that anymore. Not usually. Tell me, what’s the matter?”

Thomas leaned his hands on the bench. When he spoke his voice was full of intensity. “Lady Mary hates me, Mrs Hughes. We had a terrible falling out earlier.”

Mrs Hughes sighed and rolled her eyes. She could have guessed that would be the gist of things. “Lady Mary doesn’t hate you, Mr Barrow. She’s had a bee in her bonnet lately, that’s for sure, but she’ll be nice enough again once Mr Talbot gets back, I don’t doubt.”

“Maybe to the rest of you,” Thomas admitted. “But not to me.” He drummed his fingers on the bench, agitated. Times like this he wanted to take up smoking again. Maybe he would since he’d likely have plenty of spare time for it soon. “Perhaps I should hand in my notice. Get in first before she sacks me,” he deliberated.

“Well that’s a little dramatic!” Mrs Hughes was shocked. She hadn’t realized things had gotten that bad.

Thomas turned and explained. “She came down here to apologize to me – for some inappropriate comments she’d made about me at breakfast – but I was angry…”

“Oh dear. Did you make things worse for yourself, Thomas?”

Thomas nodded, and with heaving breaths expounded. “I said things, and then she said things, and then I—” Thomas closed his eyes. “I told her she should sack me.”

“She can’t do that! Lord Grantham wouldn’t let it happen, surely. Not when you’ve done nothing _wrong_.”

“But I’ve not done anything right either. Not according to Lady Mary. Besides, the way she treats me, I told her I can’t put up with it any longer.”

“Oh, dear,” Mrs Hughes shook her head back and forth. “Thomas. Why couldn’t you have kept your mouth shut?”

Thomas said nothing, just shook his head, wincing with regret.

“And did she? Fire you?” Mrs Hughes wanted to know.

He paused. “Not yet.”

At that moment there was a knock on the door. “Excuse me. Mr Barrow?” Anna looked in. “Lady Mary wishes to speak with you in the library.”

“Thank you Anna.” Mr Barrow straightened, adjusted his vest and left the room.

“He’s in a state today,” Anna noted, as the sound of his footfalls faded out up the stairs. “Do you know if it’s anything we should be concerned about, Mrs Hughes?”

“That depends. Did Lady Mary seem in a forgiving mood, or did she seem ready to fire a butler?”

“Oh dear.”


	4. Lady Mary's expectation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas reluctantly joins Lady Mary in the library, expecting to be sacked as butler.

“Lady Mary, you wanted to see me.” Thomas Barrow said, entering the library, standing to attention, awaiting his fate.

Mary clasped her hands on her writing table. “Please relax, Barrow. Would you like to sit down?” She indicated the chair next to her desk.

“I think not, milady.”

“Suit yourself.” She tried to look the butler in the eye but he was avoiding her gaze. “Barrow,” she addressed him sharply by name and finally their eyes met: his were cold grey resignation. She smiled. “I want to have a proper conversation with you for once. Let me start by clearing up one thing: I’m not about to sack you.”

“Why not?” Instead of being relieved, the news seemed to make him angry.

“Because I don’t _want_ to!” Mary was taken off guard and her simple justification failed to satisfy him.

“Why not?” he demanded. “Why not, when all you do is criticize and downplay everything I do? Ever since I became butler I’ve been working as hard as I can to maintain standards here. And I think you know that I’ve been trying very hard please you—”

“That’s just it. I don’t want you trying to please me, Barrow!” Mary cut him off.

Thomas didn’t understand.

“Being butler here is not like being a valet or a footman,” Mary tried to explain. “It’s more than just playing your part and pleasing your master. It requires leadership and dedication.”

“I’m trying my best,” Thomas gritted his teeth at Mary’s lecture. “But in your eyes I’ll never measure up, will I milady? Because I’m never going to _be_ Mr Carson. That’s what you _want_. Aren’t I right?”

“That’s not it at all!” Mary snapped, then reflected, “But if that’s what you think, then I’m glad we’re addressing it. I only want to feel that you’re _committed_ , Barrow.”

“How can you claim I’m not committed?” he asked in exasperation.

“You tell me,” she replied suggestively.

Thomas floundered before coming out with an accusation. “This is about my time away. You didn’t like it. That I took some well-earned leave and got away for a couple of days. I suppose Carson never—”

“Leave Carson out of this!” Mary snapped. Then spoke as calmly as she could manage. “I don’t mind how you spend your leave Mr Barrow. You could visit the man on the moon for all I care! But I would hate to think you consider your time away to be your _real_ life and for Downton to be of less importance to you.”

“Why would you say that?” Thomas paled, sounding as though the rug had been pulled out from beneath him.

“Lately, I get the feeling you’d rather be elsewhere most of the time,” Mary accused. “Am I wrong?”

Thomas wished he could deny it. He wanted to slam her down for suggesting such a thing. But it was true, and she’d noticed, even when he hadn’t been ready to consciously admit it to himself, hoped it would be a passing phase - that he’d been finding it difficult to concentrate on his day to day life and found himself having to forcibly pull his mind back from fanciful daydreams more often than he cared to admit. “No, milady,” Thomas all but whispered, “you’re not wrong.”

“Then there’s our problem.” Mary pointed out. “Oh, for God’s sake please sit down."

Defeated, Thomas finally sank into the offered chair.

“It’s not a crime to want more than you have,” she told him.

“No, but it’s ungrateful,” he told her forlornly. "I'm sorry."

“Well, I’m not,” Mary said briskly. “I’m just glad we’re talking.”

“I’ve been blaming you for treating me unfairly. And now I realize… you’re right, to an extent,” Thomas admitted. “My heart’s not here. Not lately.”

“Where is your heart, Thomas Barrow?” Mary gave a smile that could have been friendly teasing or mocking.

“You believe I have one?” Thomas countered, assuming the latter.

“Of course. If _I_ have one, then you must too.” Mary paused before confessing something. “Believe it or not, I’ve always felt a kind of affinity with you.”

Thomas raised his eyebrows. That was news to him.

“I know it sounds strange,” Mary was self-conscious about her admission. “We’ve never been close. Why would we have been? But, it’s true. I’ve always thought of you as my counterpart, in a sense.”

“In what sense?”

“We’re cold people, you and I,” she explained in her classic ice queen manner. “Or we pretend to be. When everyone else is falling over themselves to appear kind and genial... You _know_ what I mean.” She looked at him for confirmation.

Thomas gave a wry grin.

“I’d feel swamped by the sickly warmth of excessive sentimentality without you around the place to keep a dampener on things.” Mary paused. “Although lately, to my dismay, you seem to have thawed, considerably.”

Thomas huffed, not sure how to take any of this. “So that’s a _bad_ thing, in your book?”

“I know it shouldn’t be,” Mary rolled her eyes. “Not if it’s genuine. Any normal person would be pleased you’ve finally seen the light. There’s probably something wrong with me!” Mary almost laughed. She’d never spoken so candidly to Thomas. “Well?”

Thomas was confused. “I don’t know what you want me to say, milady.”

“Want ever you _want_ to say! Be frank, for heaven’s sake! God knows I’ve been. I want us to see each other as equals.”

“But we’re not equals, are we.” Thomas pointed out, vexed.

“Of course we are! Fundamentally,” Mary insisted hypocritically, as though the fact she said it was would make it true. She tried to explain what she meant. “Not in social standing, of course. And as your employer, I have the upper hand, obviously. But that’s a difference in societal status not in… divine essence.”

“Divine essence?” This was turning out to be, not only the longest, but the most bewildering conversation Thomas had ever had with Lady Mary.

“I don’t know why I said that, I don’t believe in divine essence, but you know what I mean,” Mary babbled.

Thomas shook his head.

“What I mean is this: I want you to feel you can speak your mind to me. After all, I need someone around here to discuss things with - who isn’t a child or a complete moron. Ideally I’d like someone who is equally invested in Downton Abbey as I am, not just sticking to the rules and going through the motions to earn his keep. I don’t know if you’re aware of the lengths I go to to keep this place running but I feel so alone in it sometimes.”

“I don’t know that it's my place to fill that role, milady, surely Lord Grantham—”

“Papa, much as I love him, is useless at both management and intelligent debate.”

“What about your husband, Mr Talbot? Or Mr Branson?”

“Henry and Tom are only interested in cars these days, I’m afraid. I only hope they’ll make some money from it eventually."

“Pardon me milady, but I don’t think a butler’s job description—”

“Blast the job description in some crusty old butler’s rule book, Barrow. I just really hoped you’d become someone I can put my trust in, someone who’ll be around when nobody else is, to listen to my ideas, even the wild ones, and not be fazed when I’m bad humored, or too cowed to give an honest opinion. And I find myself sorely disappointed in you."

“I didn’t realize that’s what you wanted, milady.”

“No, I suppose not.” Mary paused and took a deep breath. “Look I know you’ve had a rough ride over the years but I hope it hasn’t irreparably weakened your spirit. To see you quaking in your boots every time I lose my temper – it irritates and me no end. It upsets me,” Mary realized, “because it saddens me. That you should have so little self-worth.”

Mary's description laid him bare and Thomas cringed.

“So you can imagine how pleasantly surprised I was earlier, when you slammed the door in my face!”

“What?”

“Just don’t make a habit of it.”

“All right,” Thomas wasn’t planning to.

“Look, I know I’m a lot to put up with. And now I’ve gone and thrown all my thoughts out there. But this shouldn’t be a one-sided street. I’d like to feel you would come to me if there’s anything I can do, or arrange, to help you better balance your life and make this all work for _you_. Because I want it to work. You can tell me anything. I wish you would. I don’t think you should have to live some kind of double life. So, if anything occurs to you, please let me know.”

Bewildered, Thomas nodded. “You’ve given me a lot to think about, milady.” He made to leave.

“Oh wait. I never properly apologized. I always seem to make such a mess of things before I even realize what I’m doing. But I _am_ sorry Thomas, about everything. Truly. I’ll try to make it up to you in future.”

“All right.” It seemed feeble but it was all Thomas could think of to say.

“And now I’d better let you go. You must be terribly late for supper.”


	5. What is Barrow made of?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upstairs and downstairs talk about Thomas the butler.

“You took your time with Barrow in the library,” Robert approached Mary as she joined him for their last drinks of the evening. “I hope you worked things out satisfactorily.”

“Small steps, Papa,” she took the wine glass he offered her.

“He’s trying his best, Mary. I wish you’d go a little easy on him.”

“Is that what you think he needs? Someone to go easy on him? I beg to differ. I think he needs a good wake up call.” She reclined on the sofa, watching her wine swirling in the glass.

“Now Mary, you know what rough a time he’s had over the years.”

Mary looked up. “If you’re referring to his suicide attempt that was more than two years ago now. We can’t walk on eggshells with him forever! Besides, being discounted is far worse than being confronted. I _know_ what I’m doing, Papa.”

“I hope so,” Robert told her, sitting down, worried. “I really do. Please be careful with him. I don’t want him broken again.”

Mary nearly choked on her wine. “He’s not a porcelain doll, Papa!”

“Nor is he a rag-doll for you to toss around,” Robert countered, then considered. “What is he made of, I wonder?”

“We’ll find out. Perhaps he’ll even turn out to be a _real_ boy,” she referenced Pinocchio, since it seemed to be on theme. “Would that shock you?”

Her father was not amused.

…

“Mr Barrow!” Ms Hughes greeted him as he came down the stairs into the servant’s hall. “How did you get on with Lady Mary?”

Supper was over, but Bates and Anna were still drinking their tea, and Miss Baxter sat with some needlework in hand.

“Well, I’m not sacked,” Thomas told them. “I suppose that’s something.”

“Thank goodness,” Miss Baxter smiled.

“That’s a relief! Sit down, you look worn out,” Mrs Hughes fussed and tut-tutted. “All this drama on your first day back. I’ll get your supper from the kitchen. Mrs Patmore put it in the oven to keep warm.” She quickly went to fetch it.

Thomas took his seat at the head of the almost empty table.

“We decided to start supper without you rather than wait,” Bates explained. “You were up there a very long time.”

“Yes,” Thomas said. “I was.”

“So what exactly did Lady Mary want to say to you?” Anna asked curiously.

Thomas smiled awkwardly then shook him head. “I’m still trying to work it out.”

“She’s been going stir crazy lately, if you ask me,” Mrs Hughes came back and gave Thomas his plate of food.

“I don’t think that’s fair,” Anna defended. “She’s frustrated. She’s got a lot on her plate and no one to talk to who understands it all.”

“Have I been doing a dreadful job as butler?” Thomas blurted out.

“Of course not!” Mrs Hughes denied. “Don’t you take her words to heart. I don’t hear any complaints from Lord Grantham, do you?”

“No,” Thomas admitted. “But sometimes I get the feeling he’s a little too kind to me ever since… you know.”

The four others in the room each knew what Thomas referred to, although it wasn’t common knowledge among all servants – the time he’d almost taken his own life.

“You could show a bit more authority at times,” Bates offered. “In a nice way. Of course.”

“I think you’ve just been a little distracted lately, that’s all,” Miss Baxter offered kindly. “But it’s understandable. Don’t let anyone spoil things for you. You deserve to be happy.”

“But what if Lady Mary’s not trying to spoil anything for me?” Thomas mused. “What if she’s trying to help? In a round-about way.”

“It’s help I could do without, that’s for sure,” Bates commented dryly. “So I’m glad it’s you and not me. The things Anna tells me sometimes, I’m happy to answer to Lord Grantham and not her.”

“Mary, Mary, quite contrary,” Anna sang and they all laughed. “I love her but she’s hard work sometimes.”

“Well, I’m heading home,” Mrs Hughes announced, and the others followed her. “Don’t stay up too late, Mr Barrow. You must be exhausted,” she advised on her way out and he assured her he wouldn’t.


End file.
